It was a month or so later when Calypso's father came to visit again. Something wasn't right with him. He seemed thinner and paler. He probably just has a cold or something, Calypso reassured herself. She was doing well in school. A 92 average. She'd made new friends in school, and she was especially close with Brooke Sans, a girl in her class with a knack for writing. Everything seemed to be perfect. She had good home, she had good friends and she had a good boyfriend. Alex argued that Aiden isn't a good boyfriend, and that she'd be better off with Ravi. Each conversation went something like this:
"He's a perfectly good boyfriend, Al."
"He's practically an end table, Cal."
"He's always there for me."
"...to set magazines on. As I said, end table."
"Do your homework."
YOU ARE READING
Too Close
General Fiction"Carry on, let the good times roll Sail along, let your path unfold It won't be long, won't be long, won't be long You know it's gonna get better, you know it's gonna get better" 1st draft written by me, edited by @HannahKayMusic :)
